


Marry for Love

by epkitty



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arranged Marriage, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-03
Updated: 2011-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:50:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An arranged marriage, of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marry for Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aprilmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aprilmoon).



DAY 1

To be honest, so many people were apt to come and go at Imladris that Erestor barely took the time to get to know them all. As he was standing in the middle of another reception line to meet another supposedly important Elf, he was surreptitiously turned to one side with his clipboard out, piecing together various To-Do Lists into one Huge List. As the retinue approached, he slipped the list behind him onto a shelf and stared idly out the window. They would be upon him in a moment. Yes. Clasp the shoulder, welcome, I’m the Chief Counselor, Don’t Mess With Me, make yourself at home, yatta yatta yatta. He sighed, not TOO obviously he hoped, and tuned out the muttered welcomes growing steadily closer. He turned his attention to the tiled floor until several pairs of feet obscured it. Ah, he thought, my turn.

“… is our Chief Counselor, Erestor. Erestor, this is Glorfindel.”

When everything you thought you knew suddenly changes or ceases to be, it is called a paradigm shift. Erestor’s paradigm suddenly ticked back to zero. His welcoming hand froze in mid-air; his dark eyes were wide, locked on liquid blue ones. “Ah…” he said.

Then, without a word of greeting or excuse, he turned about, grabbed his lists, and marched down the hall.

= = = = =

Bewildered, Elrond and Lindir watched Erestor depart. “Uh,” the Lord said, “You’ll have to excuse my steward. He’s quite… finicky.”

“I know,” Glorfindel said sadly, his blue eyes also trained on the retreating Counselor.

They continued down the line, Glorfindel continued to match faces to names, but the rest of his attention was fixed on the memory of shocked, fearful black eyes.

= = = = =

The clipboard was at his side, the paper flickering sharply in the air as he walked. “Damn. Damn. Damn.” Erestor rarely swore, but he suddenly found this was occasion for a mantra of curses. “Damn. Maybe they don’t know. Maybe they won’t have heard. Damn…”

He stalked to his office, flung open the door, and slammed it behind him. He threw the clipboard onto the desk with greater rage than he’d felt in a long while.

There’d been talk, of course. Times were dark: a war, an alliance, loomed ahead of them, with need for great strength, even beside the strength of kings of Elves and Men. The Lady Galadriel had reported strange sights and deeds reflected in the ever-seeing silver depth of her Mirror, a possible resurrection among them.

Erestor crossed to a cabinet of drawers filled with files related to the rules that governed Elven law. He fingered through them until he found what he needed “Ah-ha!” and sat down, not at his desk but right on the floor where he began making stacks of papers in a half-circle around him.

= = = = =

“Last but not least, this is Dinendal. He’ll be your assistant for the beginning of your stay: show you whatever and wherever you need.”

“Excellent, pleasure to meet you, Dinendal.” Glorfindel took the young guard’s wrist in a warrior’s grip, and dark-haired Dinendal stared at him in awe without saying a word. “Do you speak, Dinendal?”

The Elf shook his head no, still staring.

Glorfindel laughed.

Elrond sighed. “Of course he speaks. But not to you, apparently. Dinendal,” he then addressed the young Elf, “if you do not say hello to our guest, I will replace you.”

“Hello,” Dinendal whispered, and then swiftly looked to the floor. He decided to find his shoes vastly fascinating.

“Oh, he’s just fine,” Glorfindel said and slapped agreeably at Dinendal’s shoulder, to alleviate the tension if nothing else. He didn’t like all the staring, but there was nothing to be done about it.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Elrond told them. “I’ll see you again at dinner, both of you.” The Lord gave one last nod and departed down the hallway amidst the scattering crowd, some of whom stood together whispering.

“Well, now what?” Glorfindel asked his young guide.

“I’m s’posed to give you a tour,” Dinendal whispered.

“Oh, we can do that later,” Glorfindel assured him. “For now, I would be much obliged if you would show me to my room, so I know where it is, and then escort me to Erestor’s office, for I have need to speak with him.”

= = = = =

The half-circle of papers remained, but Erestor had retreated back to his desk and was comparing several old documents. He had a sheet of parchment out and was ready to take notes, but there didn’t seem to be any notes to take. “Damn…” he muttered, no longer even aware of saying anything.

He reread the final passage on the oldest page for what seemed the hundredth time, but was -- in fact -- only the fourteenth.

There was knock upon his door.

Erestor pressed against the bridge of his nose in a very human gesture as of warding off a headache. “Enter.” He remained with his eyes closed, quill in hand, cradling his head. “Is anything on fire?” he asked his guest.

“Not that I know of,” Glorfindel told him with a note of bemusement in his voice.

Erestor jerked straight up as if stung by a bee. “What are you doing here?” he asked, harshly defensive. He stood and heaped all the papers into a pile and clutched them to his breast. He looked fearful of attack. Or as though he wished for much greater obstacles between himself and Glorfindel than a desk and a handful of files.

Glorfindel leaned casually against the doorjamb instead of entering the room. “Thought I’d drop by and say hello to an old friend.”

“I was never a friend,” Erestor told him. “Not to you.”

“That’s too bad.” He looked truly disappointed. His sky bright eyes flickered over Erestor’s form. “What do you have there?” as if he couldn’t guess.

Erestor ignored the question, answering with one of his own. “You came by way of the Harbors?”

“The Havens, yes,” Glorfindel agreed.

His jaw beginning to tremble in fear or nervousness, Erestor stuttered, “My parents? Did they…”

Glorfindel sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor. He angled his head around and took in the sight of Erestor’s office, from worn out carpets to cobwebbed chandelier. “They know I’m here,” Glorfindel affirmed.

Erestor let out a breathy sigh and sat back down. It was obvious he was trying not to cry.

Glorfindel clenched his jaw and his previously happy manner faded to be replaced by one of resignation and solemnity.

Abruptly, Erestor stood and swept out from behind his desk, hurtling toward Glorfindel, who removed himself from the doorway in the nick of time. “Come,” Erestor commanded, his voice shaky, betraying him. “We must alert Elrond.”

= = = = =

Erestor did not knock, but stormed into Elrond’s office in a whirl of gray robes and black hair. He glared at two Elves whose names he could not immediately remember. “Out.”

“Erestor, what on Middle Earth…?” Elrond stood and glared at his Chief Counselor in both anger and disbelief while the two underlings fled.

Glorfindel entered the office at a more sedate pace but with a grim look in his eye and closed the door behind him. “Excuse us, my Lord,” he addressed the half-Elf. “We have need of your guidance.”

“We have NEED of your AUTHORITY,” Erestor corrected, his voice beginning to shift and crack.

“I will not play host to power games,” Elrond calmly told him. “Be seated and have a biscuit or I will not hear you out at all.”

Erestor immediately plunked himself down in one of the recently vacated chairs and shoved a biscuit into his mouth. “There!” he said with a mouth full of crumbs; it was barely discernable.

Glorfindel cracked a reluctant smile. He calmly approached to sit beside the Counselor and daintily procure a cookie, at which he only nibbled. “I apologize, Elrond,” Glorfindel said.

“YOU apologize--?” the Lord began but Glorfindel cut him off, “Yes. I do. My appearance came as a great shock to Erestor, as you can see. And I should have let him grow accustomed to my presence before calling upon him. With my news.”

“What news is that?” Elrond asked, trying to relax into his high back chair and having a hard time of it.

“I think we’d best start at the beginning,” Glorfindel said.

“There’s a beginning? That implies that there’s an entire story.” Elrond held up a hand, as though to call a time-out. “Please. Let me fetch some tea.”

= = = = =

“As you know,” Erestor began, more composed now, with a cup of tea in hand, “I grew up in Gondolin.” He paused and sipped the hot, weak tea. “My father was a well-respected Lord--”

“I never knew you were a Lord’s son--”

“Don’t interrupt. Yes, a Lord’s son. And my mother was often to be seen amid the Ladies of the court. As you can imagine, once I reached a marriageable age, my parents were eager to make a match for me. I, however, was young, foolish, and independent. I wanted nothing to do with it. I refused to enter into any engagement and spurned many suitors. Even young as I was, I relished the privacy of a scholar’s life and had no wish to disrupt that pattern with a spouse or family.” Erestor stopped then, as though finished, and concentrated on his tea.

Glorfindel was demurely holding his own cup and saucer in those large, warrior’s hands, but he was not drinking. He was watching Erestor and, when the Counselor stopped, said, “The rest of the telling falls to me, I see.” He made no more pretenses at the tea and set it upon the low table before them. He laced his fingers together and looked anywhere but at their eyes.

But, “Noooo,” Erestor broke in with what was unmistakably a whine. “I have to do this.” He sighed, and when he spoke, his voice was tautly strung with remembered pain. “One year, on an eve nearing the autumn feast, I was particularly disgruntled after having to rebuff another of my parents’ schemes. They’d tried to wheedle me into a high tea with some sort of nephew’s cousin of the King or some such, by canceling my attendance at what would have been my first royal Council alongside King Turgon and his Advisors.

“I was so angry. I fetched my bow and quiver and ran up the paths to the cliffs, to the great woods that surrounded that hidden kingdom. I scented a herd of deer nearby, and in my furious wish to destroy something, I hunted them. I fled through the thick-trunked wood, chasing them before me, running them down. The stags fled ahead of me out of my reach. Their great, pronged antlers disappeared into the distant growth until the only creature in my sight was a young doe, dodging the trees in great, flying leaps. Albino. Beautiful. I halted and knocked an arrow. I had a clear shot, and fired.”

Silence was hung through the room thick and dusty. Elrond could barely believe the ferocity that had once claimed this stately Elf. Glorfindel was only mournful.

“I struck her in the heart and she fell with barely a sound, disappearing from my sight into the undergrowth.

“In the sudden silence that followed, I realized what I had done and my heart leapt into my throat with fear and regret. I knew it was wrong of me. I didn’t know how wrong.

“I shouldered my bow and made my way to the spot where she fell. But the doe’s body was gone. There was no blood among the fallen leaves, but my arrow was on the ground.

“Sensing a presence behind me, I turned. There stood a white woman, lithe and bright. She looked impossibly sad. She was angry. She was not Elf, nor human, nor any other being I had ever seen in the whole of my life. She whispered Her name to me, not with words, but into my mind: Nessa, sister to Orome. I fell to my knees beside Her and cast my quiver aside. She was more terrible than any…. than anything. She told me I had sinned, for to kill an innocent in mere personal anger is lower than most vile deeds on any earth. She said that I would not be forgiven until I fulfilled three duties. First, I must never again use a bow and arrow. Second, I must obey my parents and my obligations by entering into an engagement. She said that it was my place, and that I would be satisfied with it once I married. Third, that until I was wed, I must make tribute to Her every year, on that very day I tried to strike Her down.”

Erestor turned the teacup about on the saucer anti-clockwise. “I have made that tribute. Every year. As for the engagement, that very day I returned to my parents. I told them, ‘I will marry. I will wed whomever you deem best for me, whomever makes the best offer, whomever will raise your status and make you proud of me, since I obviously gain you no honor on my own. Draw up a contract, and I will sign it, and I will marry.’

“Three days later, they brought me a paper.” Erestor reached for his files and removed that old parchment, soaked in a tonic for long-lasting life. “A contract. There were the terms of the engagement, the marriage, and Glorfindel’s name at the bottom. I signed my name beside his. And we were engaged.”

Glorfindel glanced at the parchment and handed it across the table to Elrond. “I heard about Erestor’s eligibility through a friend who’d been addressed by his parents. I went to them directly and offered myself to fulfill the commitment. At the time, of course, no one knew of the Vala and Her visit, or any reason for Erestor’s sudden change of heart.”

Elrond’s face was drawn into a fierce frown as he studied the contract. “Why?” he asked. “Why did you do it?”

“Why not?” Glorfindel shrugged uncomfortably. “I knew him to be a respectable sort of young Elf, of good family and fortune, and with many credits of his own to recommend him, from beauty to wit.”

“Then what happened?” Elrond asked.

“The contract was never fulfilled,” Erestor said.

“Why?”

Glorfindel looked the Lord in the eye. “Well, I died.”

After a moment, Elrond asked, “Would that not annul the agreement?”

Erestor shook his head no and pointed at the paper in Elrond’s hand. “No. Look; it says nothing of death.”

“But now that I’m back, we can marry,” Glorfindel said. He did not sound happy about it.

“Have you changed your mind, then?” Elrond asked.

“No. I am simply more attuned to Erestor’s state of mind. He does not wish to be tied to me, or to anyone, in any way. I would disregard the contract, if that was his wish.”

“It is,” Erestor interjected.

“But his parents still reside on these shores, in the Havens to be exact. They know of my return. They will be on their way here now. They will want to see the deed done.”

“It is a contract,” Erestor said. “I want you to find a loophole,” he told Elrond.

“There is none,” Elrond replied. “This is very straightforward.”

Erestor stood and grabbed the paper back. “Fine. Thank you.” And he left.

= = = = =

As soon as Erestor shoved open the door to his room, he saw the missive lying where it had been pushed under the door. He stooped to retrieve the letter before closing himself in for the night.

‘Dearest Erestor,

Son, we are so happy for you! Lord Glorfindel has returned! You may expect us by dinner tomorrow and we will begin preparations for the union immediately!

With Love,  
Your Nana’

Erestor tossed the letter aside and fell into bed without even taking off his shoes.

= = = = =  
= = = = =

DAY 2

 

“Erestor!”

“Nana,” he replied with considerably less enthusiasm, but embraced her warmly.

“Son.”

“Adar.”

Glorfindel was there also, and greeted them with warm words, as -- he later chastised Erestor -- SOMEONE had to.

Erestor’s father was obviously far more pleased with his soon to be son-in-law than his own son, and walked agreeably beside the tall, golden warrior. Before them, Erestor walked with his silver-haired mother. She was nattering on about something or other, either the journey from the harbors or the marriage to come. Erestor didn’t know which.

As much as he HAD to listen, he often tuned other things out.

= = = = =

The crier introduced Lord Eredil and Lady Celebfinwen at dinner.

They were seated some way down from their son.

“My goodness,” Erestor’s mother said to anyone who would listen, “we’ve barely arrived and here we are at dinner already! So much happens in big cities; you’d think I’d have grown used to it living in the Harbors as long as I have…”

Glorfindel and Erestor were sitting side by side, and all of Imladris was more than content to watch these goings-on, to later laugh at them.

“Why?” Erestor grumbled at his… whatever. “My Adar is a menace and my Nana is a goose. Why would you willingly enter into this family?” Erestor shook his head.

Glorfindel smiled at him and ate his dinner.

“Call me Celewen!” Her voice carried over most others in the hall. “Everyone does!”   
= = = = =  
= = = = =

DAY 3

 

“Erestor?” Glorfindel knocked on the office door.

“Whatever,” Erestor called out.

So Glorfindel entered, finding Erestor at his desk with dark smudges under his eyes, his black hair hanging lank and lifeless. “You should take a break.”   
“Trust me,” Erestor told him, standing up to stretch out his back and arms, “working is the only thing keeping me sane.”

Glorfindel almost smiled. “All right.” He came in and shut the door, ghosting across the room to sit in one of the rickety chairs in the old office. “Your Nana has accosted me no less than three times this afternoon.”

“I apologize--”

“No, don’t!” Glorfindel laughed. “It’s the most entertainment I get around here. Everyone avoids me or stares at me. Celewen doesn’t care if I’ve been dead or if I’ve killed anything or how many medals I have, as long as I marry her son.”

Erestor glared.

Sobering, Glorfindel’s smile melted away. “Is it always going to be like this?”   
“Like what?” the Counselor snapped.

“I try to engage you in friendly conversation, you rebuff me, I question your motivations, you take offense, until we end up two old bastards with a bottle of whiskey and a hundred thousand regrets between us.”

Erestor pushed away the hair that hung before his eyes. “I’ll take the whiskey. But I’ve already got the regrets.”   
“You sound like an Elf twice your age.”

Shaking his head, Erestor closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “Can we talk later? Right now: it’s not good.”

Glorfindel eyed him speculatively, and supposed that Erestor would continue putting him off indefinitely. But he agreed anyway. The poor Elf did look tired. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

= = = = =

“I’ve picked out some LOVELY gowns!”

Erestor was sitting beside his mother this time.

“Blue for your Glorfindel, of course, to match those handsome eyes of his, and red for you--”

“Red?” Erestor echoed, his disgust obvious.

She barely heard him. “Yes, and oh how charming you both shall look; you’ve no idea!” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Erestor turned his eyes heavenward. “I hope You’re amused.”

= = = = =  
= = = = =

DAY 4

 

Glorfindel was surprised to find Erestor calling upon him early the next morning.

He stepped back as soon as he opened the door, and turned away, attempting to straighten his mussed hair. “I wasn’t expecting you. Uh, come in.”

Erestor reluctantly entered and watched Glorfindel sort through a pile of things on his dresser until he found a brush. He watched the reborn Elf struggle for a while, as the blond leaned down to see himself in the mirror, trying to work out the tangles. Erestor huffed to himself before striding across the room to pull out the stool. “Sit.” He grabbed the brush. “Give me that.”

Glorfindel meekly complied.

“You’re hopeless,” Erestor accused.

“This early in the morning, I am,” he agreed.

“Why don’t you braid you hair before going to bed?”

“I usually do!” Glorfindel defended himself, as Erestor patiently drew the brush through golden hair. “I forgot. Lindir took me out to the taverns last night…”

“Last fling?”

“Or something.”

“Well,” Erestor said, “I came to tell you that I’ve made arrangements for a new suite of rooms for us. Two bedrooms and a parlor between, all very well furnished, at the west end of the House.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

Erestor slowed his grooming. “Everything’s moving so fast.”

“Mothers do that.”

= = = =

Glorfindel and Erestor were sharing a quiet tea in the latter’s office. Erestor seemed to have decided to play nice. But he was sincere when he said, “I never told you how good it is to see you again.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. It is good. The staring will stop, you know. They’ll get used to you, and having a living legend walking about the halls of Imladris will be just one more of its oddities.”

“Gee,” Glorfindel wryly replied, “thanks.”

“And I mean, I suppose there is a bright side to all this…”

“Do enlighten me.”

Erestor sipped at his tea and pondered. “Haven’t thought of one yet.”

Glorfindel laughed.

= = = = =

“Oh Nessa,” Erestor murmured that night at dinner, “surely this is punishment enough…”

“…but that’s nothing!” his mother was saying to the table at large. “When he was eight, I found him in his father’s room. He was in one of my old dresses, do you remember?”: she nudged her husband’s arm. He grunted. “And he’d tied a bunch of yellow ribbons to the cat’s head and said that poor little kitty was Glorfindel, and he himself was a princess locked in a tower. Glorfindel was coming to rescue him!”

All but Erestor and his father laughed uproariously.

Glorfindel caught Erestor’s eye from across the table and mouthed the words, ‘That true?’

Erestor grimly nodded. And blushed.

= = = = =

After dinner, Erestor was disrupted by a knock upon his bedroom door.

He’d been in the midst of packing some things to be moved to the new rooms when he was forced to admit his father into the chamber. “Adar,” he greeted, his surprise evident.

Lord Eredil’s expression was flat and unemotional. He entered with those great sweeping strides and waved his hand to suggest that Erestor ought to shut the door.

The son obeyed.

“Have you been happy?”

Erestor was nonplussed.

“Have you been happy?” the dark Lord repeated. “All these years traipsing about at the heels of Kings and Lords?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s something,” Eredil supposed, pulling off his fine leather gloves to play absentmindedly with them.

“I know you have disapproved of my choices.”

“Neglecting your own lordship, and scorning the sword in favor of the pen… was your choice to make. I may not have been happy with it.” He turned and looked his son in those dark eyes. “But I am proud of you.”

Erestor turned away and covered his eyes. How long had he worked toward hearing those words? How many decades under the shadow of this Elf, how many centuries convinced his father bore little but a dim hatred for him? “Ada?”

Eredil broke down and turned Erestor toward him for an embrace.

Erestor curved into the unfamiliar hold and hugged his father back tightly.

= = = = =  
= = = = =

DAY 5

 

“Oh, sweetie; you always look so handsome!”

“Nan…”

“Hush now, here is the ring you’ll give to Glorfindel; made down in the town by the pretty little silver-smith--”

“Nana! Rings are so old-fashioned; no one uses them anymore!”

“Pish posh! Here; is it not fine?”

Erestor grudgingly took up the ring, a simple silver band, heavy to the feel but delicate to look at. “What’s that?” he held up the unadorned band to the light. “The inscription: Love, Honor, Cherish. Great. Thanks.” He pocketed the ring and shook his head.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“Have you forgotten, Nana? This is still a contracted marriage. It’s nothing to do with love.”

“Oh, but it will. You just give it the smallest bit of time.”

“Right.”

= = = = =

“Do you hate me?”

“Glorfindel, don’t be an ass.”

“Just checking.” Glorfindel stood from the rickety chair in the office. Tired of watching Erestor work, he asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Erestor eyed him skeptically, as though to evaluate his worth, and there was a moment when it was uncertain whether he would say anything. “Sure. Come look at these charts…”

= = = = =

Erestor had been sitting in Elrond’s office for half an hour, muttering to himself.

When Elrond could bear it no longer, he said, “Erestor. What are you doing?”

“Memorizing my vows.”

“Oh. …You… Couldn’t you do that somewhere else?”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” Elrond said. “No, I just… yes. Yes, you are.”

“All right.” The Counselor stood and glanced at the crumpled paper in hand. “Just hoping for someplace where Glorfindel won’t walk in on me.”

= = = = =

“It’s set for tomorrow then?”

“Mm,” Erestor acknowledged.

“So soon…”

“My Adar wishes to return to their home in the Havens. Nana refuses to leave until she has seen me properly wed. So. Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Glorfindel echoed.

“Are you ready?”

Glorfindel didn’t really have an answer. “Guess I better be, eh?”

= = = = =  
= = = = =

DAY 6

 

“Do you, Glorfindel, take Erestor as yours: to have forevermore as a partner in all things, as a mate to your life and soul, to care for and be cared for by, to love greater than yourself, and to cherish as your most precious companion?” Elrond spoke the old words gravely and with feeling.

“I do swear all this,” Glorfindel promised, his gaze fixed on Erestor’s cool, black stare. Glorfindel looked so sad. “I swear to uphold all sentiments of love and devotion, and all these vows. From now, on to forever, my soul is twained, and you, Erestor, are the other half. I shall hold you with my two arms, when you need my strength. I shall keep you in the core of my heart, when you need my love. And I shall keep you always in my mind, so that we are never truly parted. My two lives have not been complete until this moment.”

Erestor was silently crying.

“And do you, Erestor, take Glorfindel as yours: to have forevermore as a partner in all things, as a mate to your life and soul, to care for and be cared for by, to love greater than yourself, and to cherish as your most precious companion?”

“I do.” He took a fortifying breath. “I swear to abide by the written laws of Elves, and the unwritten laws of the heart. From this moment, I am bound to this marriage oath. From hence forth, my blood is driven by you, my thoughts herded by you, and my heart…” He stumbled in his words, but for only a moment. “My heart loved by your heart. I shall tend to the garden of our dreams, until every blossom of hope is fulfilled and grown to a ripened fruit, fed by the sun of our love, and the water of our tears. We shall eat the fruit of our dreams, you and I. We shall live our lives as one life.”

Elrond smiled upon them, wishing, oh wishing that they would be happy.

Lady Celewen’s tears flowed freely. Beside her, Lord Eredil displayed no discernible emotion. There were many ladies among the crowd with dampened cheeks, and not a few men, as silver rings were slipped onto long fingers.

Glorfindel kissed Erestor’s trembling lips with reverence.

= = = = =

There was much merriment that eve! The Hall of Fire was filled to overflowing with as many celebrants as could fit within it. They danced and sang all the night away, and Glorfindel danced most of all. Erestor forced himself to smile when it was expected of him, and even laughed when it was appropriate. The contract was fulfilled, he reminded himself, and all his vows to Nessa were complete. He should feel happy.

Several hours before sunrise, Lindir led the ceremonial procession through the Hall, banging his gong, followed by his minstrels with their corroboree sticks and tin bells. Glorfindel took Erestor’s hand, and they followed the minstrels, and one by one, two by two, horde by crowd, the masses followed them. The jangling beat wound, snakelike out of the Hall and along the main corridor, onto the white stone paths, and over the nearest bridge. Along they all walked, and the newly married couple held hands all the way.

They passed the baths and the bakery and proceeded into the main hall of the House on the western shore of the Bruinen. They laughed and sang, and Lindir banged the little brass gong all the way until they came to the door of the new suite that Erestor and Glorfindel would enter for the first time.

Lindir opened the door, and the cacophony rose to a mutinous level of hardened noise. Everyone in the colorful snake that wound through the halls carried the cheer to the very end of the line until the entire valley surely knew that the couple was locked away in their chambers.

= = = = =

In the darkened parlor, Glorfindel and Erestor broke their grasp and their wide stares flashed in the dark, trying to listen with their eyes. On the other side of the door, Lindir shouted some words of tradition, and then he and his minstrels started up a rollicking song. And slowly, as slowly as the stars cross the sky in the night, the sound moved away. They stood there as statues and could imagine the crowd breaking up, dispersing to their own abodes, imagine the minstrels dancing and singing as they paraded back to the Hall to continue the celebration, for it was well known that minstrels -- particularly those guided by Lindir -- would not stop a party until fatigue dragged them to their beds late in the morning.

Only when the music was a mere whisper on the night air and the footsteps were gone entirely did the pair allow themselves to breathe. They breathed deeply and smiled nervously at one another.

“I have to get out of this ridiculous thing,” Erestor said of his crimson wedding gown. “Why don’t you light some candles? We’ll have a glass of wine before bed.”

“MORE wine?” Glorfindel asked.

“One more,” Erestor said, and stalked off to his room.  
 The click of his closing door was absurdly loud in Glorfindel’s ears, after all the noise of the night. The warrior removed his outer robe, that gorgeous blue velvet draping. He wondered if he’d ever have occasion to wear it again, and hung it over a chair. He looked the parlor over and found it to be comfortable. It might serve as a home, in time.

He found a box of matches, too costly a decadence he thought, and lit a series of candles throughout the room. In the light, the pale parlor looked cheerier. Its walls and ceiling were white, but the furniture about the room was dark and masculine, and the rugs and tapestries were vividly colored. In his bright white under-robe, Glorfindel thought he blended in quite well, and found a seat on a low sort of reclining couch upholstered in dark reds.

Erestor reentered the room in a drab gray dressing robe. He fetched a pair of cut crystal glasses and a bottle of champagne, which he handed to Glorfindel. “Would you open it? I haven’t the strength at the moment.”

Glorfindel popped the cork and poured the shimmering, fizzing liquid.

“To our happiness,” Erestor toasted, but there was a sarcastic wryness in his voice; he didn’t mean it.

But Glorfindel did, when he echoed the toast in somber tones.

“Why so down-hearted?” Erestor asked. “I thought you wanted to marry?”

Glorfindel licked his lips and set the glass aside. He didn’t like looking up at Erestor, who remained standing, and so Glorfindel stood as well. His sky bright eyes were a little sad and a little angry and a little bit of everything else that such old eyes could convey. He proclaimed to Erestor, “I wished to marry for love.”

Confusion and anger clouded Erestor’s pale face. He slammed his glass down beside Glorfindel’s and it was surprising the crystal did not break. “Considering your station, not to mention the political air at the time,” Erestor spat, “it was a very foolish wish! And considering that wish at all, I cannot see why you should EVER enter into an engagement with ME!” Erestor was filled to bursting with ire. “Why?” he demanded, his anger manifesting not in piercing shouts of the terrified, but in the narrowed hiss of concentrated fury. “Why did you do it?”

Intense blue eyes regarded him forlornly and Glorfindel did not answer immediately, as though waiting for a boiling pot to settle. “I watched you for a long time, Erestor. All that time in Gondolin. I thought…”

“WHAT? Say it! I have a right to know!”

Glorfindel tried to swallow past the nervous lump in his throat. He looked to the side, unwilling to meet hateful black eyes. “I thought you would be easy to love.” He sighed and brushed away the wetness from his eyes, barely realizing he was crying. “And I suppose I thought,” his voice broke for a moment and he closed those blue eyes, “that you would be able to love me, too. After a time. After a fashion.”

Releasing the majority of his swift anger with a long and airy sigh, Erestor ran a shaky hand through his frazzled hair, which he’d hastily pulled free of its love knots and marriage ties. “Damn.” He turned away and strolled the length of the parlor. He came to a halt at a window and peered through the small, lead-set panes out into the night. “Damn.” He pressed his forehead to the cool glass and closed his eyes. “Do you know why I hated it all so much?”

“You mean aside from the curse, and the expectations, and your parents.”

“Yes,” Erestor grimly smiled, “aside from all that. Why it was you, and I hated it.”

“I should dearly like to know,” Glorfindel admitted, pained that Erestor was across the room from him. He could barely hear the Counselor’s words.

Erestor laughed. The sound was painful. “I watched you, too. I longed for you. In a pained, young-love sort of way. I didn’t love you. But I wanted you. And I knew that I was so far beneath your notice that… well it all sounds so trite, so petty now. But I never would have dared to hope to catch your eye. When I saw your name upon the contract, I felt as if the world shifted around me. To have what I had yearned for surely boded ill; like so many other things in my short life, it would go wrong.” Erestor pulled away from the window and turned to face Glorfindel, who had not approached. “And of course it did. Or, maybe I just never had a chance to find out.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I think I hated everything, then. Everything around me seemed shadowed by the evils of those days. I should have known better. I know better now.”

“And now, you’re still so full of that ire.”

“Of a different sort,” Erestor agreed. He slowly crossed the room, his pale spidery hands tucked behind his back, his steps measured and slow. He looked at the floor as he walked and spoke. “I’m so different from what I was. My duties now are so vast and varied. I’ve no time for a marriage, nor would I be a pleasing partner to you, Glorfindel. I am embittered of the world and everything in it.” He looked up into sky bright eyes. “And that old stench of war has returned to me, here in what is supposed to be a sanctuary. And you will go and fight. And may die again. What is the purpose of any of this? Am I to lose so much all over again?”

“Not if I can help it,” Glorfindel promised him. “I know many things now. I know why I was returned here, and you’re right: They need me here to fight. But They do not need me to die.”

The muscles in Erestor’s jaw were clenched tight, the shadows flickering over the angles and planes of that beautiful, ashen face. “Do you promise?”

“Oh yes, Erestor. I promise.”

Erestor dropped his face to hide it in his long-fingered hand. His shoulders convulsed in a short bout of emotion. His sobs were dry, and his eyes were nearly so. “So what now, what do we do now?” He murmured, for fear his raw voice would give him away. “Go on as if this were normal, as if this were something you still wanted? As if this were something I ever wanted?”

“No, I suppose not,” Glorfindel said. He took a step nearer. “There’s something I want to try, though. But I’m not sure if you’ll let me.”

Erestor used his sleeve to press against his eyes, soaking up the wetness. They weren’t tears, he convinced himself. His eyes were watering; that was all. It had been an intense day. When he thought he could manage it, he looked Glorfindel in the eyes. “What?”

“I’d like to kiss you.”

Erestor could feel the blood slowly suffusing his face, flushing with embarrassment. “Oh.”

Glorfindel was waiting. He did not blush. He was waiting for a yes or a no.

“Well, what do I have to lose, right?” Erestor pointed out, his voice wobbling horribly.

Wasting little time, Glorfindel cupped Erestor’s jaw, thumb brushing along the cheek; he could feel the heat from Erestor’s skin. “You’re warm.”

Erestor’s eyes darted about and he said nothing.

There was no gentle way to do it, suddenly. Glorfindel just leaned in and bent his head and he was kissing Erestor. Awkward at first, until the friction of their lips sent a heated echo along all his nerves and Erestor stopped trying to be… well anything, and just let himself BE, and let Glorfindel in, just like opening up a door, just like saying ‘come on in, you’re more than welcome.’

Then, Erestor was kissing him back, offering up all he had to give.

Glorfindel’s other hand settled on Erestor’s chest, where he could feel the beat of a heart and the pumping blood and more of that delicious heat.

Erestor couldn’t bring himself to do much exploring; he only clutched at the sleeves of Glorfindel’s under-robe.

Unable to really stop, when Glorfindel broke away, his mouth replaced his hand and kissed along that jaw to nose at Erestor’s ear.

“Oh!” A soft sound of utter surprise. Erestor suddenly gasped, unable to get the air into his lungs. He tried again. “You want to do more than kiss me…”

“How did you guess?” Glorfindel murmured into Erestor’s ear.

“Um…”

“Can I? Do more than kiss you?”

“Um…”

“Oh Valar… Erestor, if you don’t say no…” He was pulling at Erestor’s night robe, pulling him closer. “Erestor, I didn’t think I would--” he stopped himself and said instead, “but if you’re going to say no, say it now. Say it now.”

Erestor had somehow buried his face into Glorfindel’s shoulder and could smell soap and sweat and cotton and rich, musky Glorfindel. “What was the question?” he wondered, lips brushing against the skin wrapped over the warrior’s collarbone.

“More than kiss you…”

“More than…?”

“Kiss.”

“I won’t say no,” Erestor said, his lips still dragging at swiftly heating skin.

Glorfindel crushed Erestor into him, friction and heat rubbing up between them and cycling through aroused bodies.

“I’ve never…!” Erestor gasped.

“I know,” Glorfindel promised, kissing whatever skin was presented to him: neck and ear and mouth and nose and cheek and shoulder and brow and chest and always returning to lips that tasted of wine and tingled too, like little champagne bubbles.

Erestor let him, not from a wish to be passive but from an inability to do anything else except madly clutch and moan and think to himself, ‘what is this, what is happening to me?!’ He said, “What have you done to me?”

“Hm?”

“It’s like fire!”

“It’s like heaven,” Glorfindel whispered into the wires of frazzled black hair. “This is good, isn’t it?” he wanted to know. “This is right?”

Erestor breathed in that scent he couldn’t get enough of. Words were so hard! They’d never been this hard before. Did they really need words? “My morals are suddenly far out of reach, Glorfindel. But this must be right… can’t be anything else. Touch me.”

“I am.”

“Touch me more.”

Glorfindel eagerly pulled at the knot in the robe’s belt and pushed the whole thing off of pale shapely shoulders into a puddle of cotton.

“Oh!” Erestor said as the warmth of clothing was gone and the cool air touched every part of him.

“Aiya, you’re beautiful,” Glorfindel exclaimed, pulling back enough to drink in the candlelit sight.

“Really? I’ll believe you, if you mean it,” Erestor told him.

“You’re beautiful,” Glorfindel said again. He wanted to touch every part all at once and settled for skimming his hands along arms and sides and chest and down below and up around until the firm touches drove Erestor to a previously unknown weakness that was felt mostly in his legs but drifted like a splendid ache all through the rest of him. “Your bed or mine?”

“Here, right here,” Erestor moaned, his own hands pushing irritably at the buttons that barred Glorfindel from view.

Glorfindel growled at the mere thought and followed Erestor’s hands with his own, barely managing to keep the shift intact as he pulled the buttons free and slithered out of it, leaving it coiled like a white snake next to the gray puddle. Then Erestor’s spider hands were all over him, too gentle to do anything but excite and torment. Glorfindel turned them round like a dance, and coaxed Erestor to sit on the couch, where Glorfindel kneeled between spread knees and kissed a line from lips to neck to nipple (oh!) to a stretch of muscle to navel to thatch of hair.

Erestor’s length was slim and delicate and, apparently, very sensitive. Glorfindel teased until Erestor begged. He teased with his fingers, wrapping the girth of it and tickling the crown, cupping the sac beneath and then adding his tongue to the play until Erestor cried, “Do something!” and Glorfindel would have laughed if he hadn’t just swallowed Erestor down like he’d been wanting nothing else. Moving of their own volition, Erestor’s hips pumped forward and he clutched at Glorfindel’s braids with one hand and the back of the couch with the other, lost to anything but the sight of candlelight flickering on a white ceiling and the marvelous sensations that were like lightening leaping through him but somehow rippling too, like water.

Glorfindel drank him down like a fine wine until Erestor lay limp as a rag doll on the couch.

“Come on, you.” Glorfindel grinned wildly as he stood, and then swept Erestor up into his strong arms and marched toward his own room.

He managed the door, and then headed for a well-proportioned bed with blue covers. He half laid, half tossed Erestor onto it and followed, crawling up the panting, sweating, beautiful white body. He kissed a trembling knee. “Can you hear me?” He kissed the crease where thigh met pelvis. “Erestor?” He kissed the smooth belly. “We’re not done yet, angel.” He kissed the pulse at the fluttering throat. “Answer me, sweet one.” He kissed plump, dark lips.

“Is this a dream?”

“Open your eyes.”

Black eyes blinked open. “It’s you…” Erestor lifted his head from the bed to kiss the corner of Glorfindel’s mouth. “I think I love you.”

“Only for my mouth,” Glorfindel protested with a smile.

“That and other parts,” Erestor answered, reawakening. He raised a leg between Glorfindel’s, and rubbed his thigh against the prominent swelling. “Hm. What do you want to do with me?”

“Everything.” It was nearly a threat. Glorfindel licked a stripe up Erestor’s ear.

“Oh, you could raise the dead, you could…”

“Think I’m bringing you back to life,” Glorfindel noticed.

“So soon?”

“It IS our wedding night… It must be the romance of it all.”

“Kiss me again.”  
 Glorfindel chuckled and gently let his weight down onto Erestor. They traded slow kisses in the darkness. “You like kissing,” Glorfindel wondered.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Erestor whispered against him.

“Thought you’d slap me if I tried.”

“Nearly did,” Erestor joked. “You should bring in some candles. I want to see you.”

“Maybe later; I don’t want to stop touching you.”

Erestor sighed and stretched his head back, exposing the pale length of his neck as he began to rock under Glorfindel’s weight.

They both moaned insensibly. “My mind’s plain gone…” Erestor said.

“Liar.” Glorfindel kissed him again and slowly plunged his hips back and forth, prodding stiffly at Erestor’s belly and smearing wetness between them.

“You gonna put that inside me?”

Glorfindel could only wonder and simply GROAN at the thought. “I hope so.”

“Where did this come from,” Erestor wondered, now curving his head up into Glorfindel’s neck.

“What?”

“This passion inside me!” Erestor cried out, as though begging. “It’s like magic!”

Glorfindel laughed and floundered about atop him.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking.”

“For what?”

“For this.” Glorfindel rolled away to retrieve the lantern at the bedside. He rolled right back, but the mere moment they were parted skin from skin was like being thrown out into the snow. He took off the lid and rose up onto his knees.

“Let me.” Erestor sat up, his legs still out straight with one of Glorfindel’s knees between them. He tossed the lid aside and dipped his hand into the rough oil. He rubbed the oil over all his fingers and then curiously traced idle patterns onto Glorfindel’s taut belly, staring at the fine organ that sprouted and curved up toward him. Erestor kissed the tip, and it jumped. He laughed and encircled it with his hands, smearing the oil here and there and all around.

“Not so gentle,” Glorfindel said, though with difficulty, his words halting and faint.

Erestor gathered more oil and returned with a firmer grip.

“I’ll have to, uh… prepare you, too.”

Erestor smiled up at him. The expression was wicked.

Glorfindel spoke without thinking. “You look sultry.”

“Like the desert?”

Glorfindel’s voice was deep and heavy. “Like exotic places ripe with the perfume of aphrodisiac herbs, and the smoke of wonderfully choking incense, and tasseled pillows and transparent veils.”

“And you look magnificent,” Erestor told him.

“Like lions?” Glorfindel asked.

“Like great tall palaces and wild mountains, and sharpened swords pulled from the sheathe, and ancient trees alive with power. And like lions.”

“Roooaarrrrrr,” Glorfindel purred, bending in close to Erestor’s face. “Roll over.” He moved his leg so Erestor could obey, which he did. Up on his knees like a dog, Erestor looked over his shoulder, trusting and wild-haired.

Glorfindel’s eyes might have burned straight through him. He wetted two fingers in the oil and smoothed a path downward from the tailbone. Erestor writhed but tried to hold still at the same time, like a stretching cat. He mewled like one, too. “Bare down,” Glorfindel instructed as he traced the entrance and slipped the tip of a finger in.

Pushing back against him, Erestor wiggled. “I like it. Keep going.”

Glorfindel moved in to loom over him and plant kisses here and there over the pale, sweating back. His finger mimicked the movement of sex, penetrating further at each stab inward.

Erestor made no complaint, especially when Glorfindel set the oil aside and snuck his other hand around to fondle Erestor’s stiffness.

“Are you ready?” Glorfindel said.

“For what?”

Glorfindel withdrew and slowly forced two fingers in.

“Ooh! That’s uh… bit more uncomfortable.”

There was worry in his voice; Glorfindel soothed it by slowly corkscrewing his fingers, twisting them all about, and licking at the tip of Erestor’s ear. Insensible to his own words, Glorfindel found himself muttering over and over, “I love you, Erestor, I love you.” And then began to wonder what love was. He’d known a much younger Erestor a lifetime ago, and this one for less than a week. Erestor moved under him like a dancer and called his name and echoed his sentiment and Glorfindel decided he just did not care.

His fingers turned a practicality into a lovemaking. He was cooing mindlessly at Erestor’s ear and stroking him languorously as Erestor rocked back and purred low in that innocent arching throat. They could have been moving like that for hours or days, slowing opening to one another like shy blooms in a vast field.

And then, like the end of a song, Glorfindel withdrew, knowing the time was just right.

“Wait,” Erestor whimpered, his voice weak with the intense concentration on his body. “Can’t I…? I want to look at you…”

“I understand,” Glorfindel said, and he guided Erestor onto his back with strong, warrior’s hands on almost bony hips.

Black eyes, lust-glazed and barely focused, turned toward blue sky: “Will it always be like this?”

“I hope so.” Glorfindel dragged a pillow from the head of the bed and snuck it up under Erestor in just the right place.

“I want our bodies to do everything physically possible to one another.”

Glorfindel’s eyes flared with frenzied fire. “Yes,” he rumbled, “but not all in one night.”

Erestor smiled up at him and it was stunningly beautiful. “When you’re inside me, I want to you look into my eyes.”

“For as long as I can,” Glorfindel said, feeling his shaky control slowly slipping away as he stroked himself with more oil and pushed Erestor’s legs up and away. “This’ll hurt,” he grunted.

“I know.”

Glorfindel nudged inside and then slowly drowned in the tight-heat-feeling-intense-burn-slide-clench. “Ah!”

Erestor keened and whined and his legs trembled. He growled and wound his fingers into the covers. Tears leaked from his eyes. His head was pressed back hard into the mattress, his hair fanned about like tendrils of frozen fire, every muscle tight and hard. Glorfindel was still entering him; one long, slow shove.

“Oh don’t cry,” Glorfindel breathed out, barely vocalizing it. “Please don’t.” He sighed as he came to a halt, in to the root, and settled atop his lover to lick away the tears. His movements then were imperceptible, a slow dragging roll that repeated and repeated, his hips following the pattern of love for ages and ages previous. He gathered Erestor into his arms then, and long legs settled about his waist. He looked into pained black eyes and moved.

Erestor let Glorfindel do what he would as the intense pain and overwhelming sense of *full* showered him in sparks of pleasure and torture like itching pinpricks over his goose pimpled skin. Then, Glorfindel shifted, something was different, and then he struck in to the core, striking a nerve, a chord, a heart within him. Erestor yelped.

Glorfindel smiled at him and repeated the assault, assailing the center of him over and over.

He was crying again, from having just TOO MUCH of everything and Erestor only held on; his arms became barnacles around Glorfindel’s wide shoulders, and he screamed with the incredibleness of it all.

“Open your eyes.”

Someone was calling him.

“Open your eyes, Erestor.”

He did. And there was Glorfindel, tense and alive and full of so much energy and pure blazing light that Erestor was terrified and happy and he could not look away.

In. Out. Just like that. Just like a minstrel’s rhythm: back, forth. Just like a heartbeat: duh-da. Just like the ocean: roar, whisper. Just like every good thing on their earth. Only it was in them, it WAS them. It was unadulterated pleasure of the senses and fullness of heart, and wicked writhing of the soul. It was so much that it became unbearable. Wild.  
 Frenzied.

The hold of their gazes broke. There was no more control, no more thought. There was only trust, there was only magic. Glorfindel moved powerfully, pushing himself up onto his arms with palms flat and sinking into the bed as he pumped and drove away at Erestor. Erestor, whose hands were leechlike claws at whatever solid framework of Glorfindel’s body he could reach, and he pulled his legs up further apart and invited Glorfindel IN. MORE. His eyes were clenched tight; the senses were overwhelmed. There was a pounding resounding all through every part of him and he was banging his head back against the bed, mindless with ecstasy.

Heaving, sweating, powerful bodies slammed together. The air was rent with helpless cries and longing for what seemed unreachable and yet inevitable.

The bed shook under them, as though it might rattle apart.

There was no room left in themselves for anything but the joining.

“Ah!”

“Erestor…”

= = = = =  
= = = = =

DAY 7

 

“Erestor…”

“What?”

“You’re grumbling. In your sleep.”

“Was I?”

They lay spooned together under the covers, Glorfindel’s arm wrapped possessively around him. “What were you saying?”

“Ugh,” Erestor moaned, as though uncertain he wanted to be awake at all. “Everything hurts. I’m sticky in some places and itchy in others. I won’t be able to walk normally and I have a headache and I’m thirsty and your arm is heavy and it’s too hot.”

Glorfindel smiled to himself. “Anything else?”

“Yes. It’s positively divine, and I’m unbelievably happy. If I feel like this every morning, I’ll never want for anything.”

“You’re happy when you complain?”

“Extraordinarily, indubitably, ecstatically, invigoratingly happy.”

“Ah. Then, you must always be happy.”

Erestor aimed a half-hearted punch at Glorfindel’s forearm.

“Ow.”

“Oh please. That didn’t hurt.”

“You wanna bet?”

“Shut up, Glorfindel. Kiss me.”

“But you’re facing away from me.”

“Cause it’s too early to move. Kiss whatever you can reach.”

“Like this?” Glorfindel kissed his shoulder.

Erestor purred.

Glorfindel kissed the back of his neck.

Erestor moaned.

Glorfindel kissed the tip of his ear.

Erestor keened.

“Erestor, are you…?”

Finding the oomph within him to move, Erestor rolled over, his hardness poking between Glorfindel’s thighs. He snuck his nose up under Glorfindel’s chin and kissed at the strong neck.

“Wasn’t this a marriage of convenience at one time?”

“Inconvenience, more like,” Erestor told Glorfindel’s bicep as his kisses migrated.

“Do you want to take me?” Glorfindel whispered.

“Not now,” Erestor told him, licking a pert nipple. “Someone needs to get food. And you can currently walk without hobbling. You’re elected.” Then he disappeared under the sheets.

“E gads!”

Erestor was too tired to do much. Instead he tended to Glorfindel with cat-like licks and nips and kisses. Which Glorfindel found to be more than acceptable.

Then the dark beauty snuck back up to kiss Glorfindel’s hot mouth. They lay flush together and moved together almost as though it was an afterthought. Moments stretched to minutes until they were quietly panting and whispering and they came and it was good.

= = = = =

Elrond was worried. They hadn’t come to breakfast. And based upon what he’d witnessed of their interaction and vague displeasure with one another, he wasn’t entirely certain he wouldn’t find a corpse or two if he were to open up their door.  
 All the same, he knocked politely.

Shortly, Erestor opened the door. He looked about like he usually did after too little sleep, with hair askew and irritable expression, clutching his robe to him like a maiden. “What?”

“Just wanted to…” Elrond broke off when movement further in the room caught his eye.  
 Glorfindel, naked, walked into the parlor. “Erestor, what’s… Oh.” He turned around and disappeared back into the bedroom.

Elrond looked at Erestor.  
 Erestor looked at Elrond as though he truly didn’t care WHAT his Lord thought.

“Um…”

“Be a good sport and send up some food, eh?”  
 Elrond nodded and Erestor closed the door. Erestor sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool wood.

“The jig’s up?” Glorfindel asked, peering into the room.

Erestor turned around and smiled at him. “We’ve got food coming. Get back on that bed.”  Glorfindel yawned, scratched the back of his neck, smiled, and said, “Yes sir.”

= = = = =

The End


End file.
